


Any port in a storm

by notallbees



Series: No sun up in the sky [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky, First Time, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, References to Sex Work, Top Steve, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2208615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It takes three more days for the weather to break. Three sweltering days of Bucky trying to keep his hands and his eyes to himself, while Steve slouches around the apartment in his skin-damp singlet and underwear, fanning himself lazily and complaining about the heat. Bucky finds his eyes sticking on every movement Steve makes; the languid reach of his arms as he stretches like a lazy cat; the bend of his scabbed elbow as he reaches up to flick the sweaty hair off his forehead; the self-conscious way he licks the salt from around his mouth, eyes on Bucky the whole time.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Steve knows more about this stuff than Bucky, and he's eager to show him what he knows, if they can both get their heads out of their asses long enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any port in a storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nekare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekare/gifts).



> I'm sorry about the title.
> 
> (I'm not sorry.)

It takes three more days for the weather to break. Three sweltering days of Bucky trying to keep his hands and his eyes to himself, while Steve slouches around the apartment in his skin-damp singlet and underwear, fanning himself lazily and complaining about the heat. Bucky finds his eyes sticking on every movement Steve makes; the languid reach of his arms as he stretches like a lazy cat; the bend of his scabbed elbow as he reaches up to flick the sweaty hair off his forehead; the self-conscious way he licks the salt from around his mouth, eyes on Bucky the whole time.

They don't touch during the day: no more than they have to, probably less than usual. Certainly not more. 

They wait until it gets dark, sitting around with the windows flung wide and the sounds of the  
street and other people's daily lives coming in to keep them company. And then when the sun has gone down far enough that their room is shades of beige and grey, when Bucky's practically jumping out of his seat because he's shaking so hard with wanting Steve, then Steve will get up and go lie down on the bed, and Bucky won't wait a second before rushing over to lie down beside him.

At first they're tentative. They lay on their sides looking at one another in the half light, and the wicked gleam in Steve's eyes makes Bucky's stomach twist like a live thing. They start out just looking, grasping at themselves through their underwear while they watch each other carefully, neither daring to break eye contact. Then, Steve, of _course_ it's Steve, reaches out for Bucky's hand. He grabs him by the wrist and presses Bucky's palm flat over the rigid weight of his own dick.

"No point doin' this if you just wanna stare at me," he says, low and teasing. Bucky watches him swallow, the ripple of his adam's apple in his throat. "You been doin' that plenty already."

Bucky goes red. "I didn't mean nothin' by it."

Steve reaches across to stroke him through his underwear. "You didn't mean for this to happen?"

Bucky's got no answer for that.

It goes on that way for a couple more nights. They don't touch except when they need to, they don't talk about it until the sun goes down and they scramble into bed together, and they don't kiss. Bucky doesn't ask why Steve doesn't kiss him, but he doesn't try and start it either. That doesn't mean he isn't thinking about it, especially when they're sitting close together on the couch or across from one another in the diner, Steve's mouth wrapped around the straw in his soda. Bucky can't be blamed for thinking about other places Steve's mouth has been, other places he _wants_ it to be. 

Then, on a Thursday night, the storm hits.

Bucky's tight and anxious in his skin. He'd gotten into a bust up after work for no good reason. He can't tell anyone it's because he's spent all day thinking about Steve: pink and writhing under his fingers, pulling up his shirt tails the way a girl might hold up her skirts for Bucky to come on in. He feels dirty and wrong, and desperate for more, and he can't stop thinking about what his mom and dad would say if they knew. He's almost sure they'd never look at him again.

On top of all that, he gets home to find Steve missing, a sandwich left out for him with a perfunctory note to say he'll be back late. Bucky scowls and kicks a chair over. Something's been building in him all day; a quiet desperation that balloons in his chest, pushing aside all his vital organs, suffocating him. 

He takes a quick bath, switches on the wireless and sets to cleaning up the apartment. They've been letting it fester for the past couple of weeks, and now what Bucky needs more than anything is to keep his hands busy. The whole city is on alert for the incoming storm; the wind has been picking up all day, blowing the stuffy heat out of the apartment, and by the time Bucky finishes cleaning and pours himself a finger of cheap whiskey, it's getting cold. He didn't want to make more clothes dirty after washing so he's only wearing his underwear, and he goes to fetch a blanket from their bed and close the windows. 

Just in time, too, because as he slams the last window shut, the rain starts to come down. It starts out as a fingertip patter on the glass, but within two minutes it's a roar, drowning out the wireless completely. Bucky scowls out at the darkness that comes down with the heavy weather; Steve had better not be out in this, Bucky'll chew him out something fierce if he finds he has been. He pulls the couch over to the window and sits looking out, wrapped in a blanket from their bed, trying not to worry about Steve.

There's always the chance he's gone to meet a girl, but Bucky can't help thinking that Steve would've said in his note if he was meeting a girl, and if it was a friend he'd have asked Bucky along. He doesn't like the idea that Steve might be out with a girl this late, without once having mentioned her to Bucky, but he prefers it to the alternative. It makes him feel like a heel to think it, but he can't help remembering what Steve had said about doing some of that bedroom stuff before, and the idea that Steve's been with guys, that he might be with one _now_ -

Bucky shakes his head to clear the thought and wishes he had something to drink, something to take the edge off. But that’s how this started, isn't it? He had a little too much and he let himself get carried away. 

Suddenly there's a loud _crack_ and the lights go out. Bucky groans and leans back to peer out the window again. Sure enough, everything is dark as far as he can see, looks like the whole of Brooklyn plunged into darkness. As he glares into the shadowy street, it's illuminated briefly by a flash of lightning, and Bucky shudders at the answering rumble of thunder, deafening overhead. He slumps down on the couch with a groan and pulls the blanket over his head. He _hates_ thunder, almost as much as Steve loves it, and he can't help the surge of panic that bursts through him at the thought of Steve out in this, in the dark, not able to find his way home. 

He throws off the blanket and stumbles across to the kitchen where they keep the candles and matches. His hands are shaking so hard that it almost a dozen tries to get one lit, and a second burst of thunder surprises him into dropping it. Bucky swears and scoops it up, lighting it again with one strike of a match and quickly putting it to the others to light them too. He doesn't think he's ever seen their apartment so dark, without the glare of streetlights coming in through the thin curtains, and him a tiny corner of light in the black. 

Cursing Steve under his breath, Bucky sets out the candles in empty soda bottles and other makeshift candlesticks, then roots around in search of his shoes. There's no way he's leaving Steve out there alone in this, and he's got one shoe half on when there's a crash outside the door. Bucky jumps up, and almost sits right down again with the force of his relief when he hears the scrabble of Steve's key in the lock. He's at the door and yanking it open in seconds, scowling down at Steve, dripping on the mat, water streaming off him.

"Hey, Buck," he says cheerfully, swaying into the room. "Hell of a storm out there."

Bucky bites the inside of his mouth and slams the door behind Steve. "You're goddamn drunk," he says in a dangerous voice. 

"You bet," Steve says, grinning as he shoots Bucky with an imaginary gun. "Drunk as a king!"

"Well, _your majesty_ , you're ruining the carpet," he snaps. Steve blows air at him, turning away dizzily as he peels his soaked jacket off his shoulders. It gets stuck on his arms, clinging to the sodden fabric of his shirt, and Bucky groans and grabs him by the shoulder so he can hustle him into the bedroom. He grabs a towel from the clothes horse and throws it over Steve's head to catch the water dripping down from his hair. Steve just sways, putting one hand up to catch the towel while Bucky fetches the candles and sets them on the dresser.

"Ain't you cold, dummy?" Bucky grabs him by one of his suspenders and spreads his other hand over Steve's chest. "You feel frozen." He rubs the towel over Steve's head vigorously, scrubbing the extra wetness out of his hair. 

"Get off," Steve moans, trying to push him away. Bucky drops the towel, but holds him firm and starts unbuttoning his shirt and pants. "Buckyyy-"

"Shut up."

Steve tries to stop Bucky pulling his shirt off, but his hands are wet and stiff with the cold, and Bucky slaps them away impatiently. "Bucky, don't," Steve whines, his voice becoming more urgent. "Bucky – no-"

Taking no notice of him, Bucky strips Steve's jacket off in a wet heap, and pushes his suspenders off his narrow shoulders. The shirt is sticking to his skin, the water turning it pale and see through. Bucky huffs and peels it away from Steve's chest.

"No, Bucky," Steve mutters, cutting his gaze down to the floor. He seems an awful lot less drunk right now. Bucky's fingers brush his waist and he shudders. "Please don't."

Scowling at him, Bucky yanks it off completely and tosses it into the empty basin where it can drip without leaving water marks. Steve wraps his skinny arms across his chest, finally looking as if he's feeling the cold. "Take your pants off." Steve shakes his head. "You'll catch your death. Take them off."

"Bucky-"

"Where've you been, Stevie?" Bucky asks, his voice taking on a hard edge. 

"Just wanted some air." He looks up at Bucky, his eyes steely and defiant, but his gaze is weary and he turns away after a moment with a shrug. "Fine." 

Bucky watches him fumble to push his pants down, and frowns when something flops out of his pocket and lands on the floor. It's a damp envelope, and he snatches it up before Steve can get his fingers on it, holding it up over his head when Steve cries out in protest.

"Bucky, give that back," Steve whines, abandoning his pants halfway down his thighs and scrabbling at Bucky's arms. "Bucky!"

"What is it?" Bucky snaps. He pushes Steve back with one hand, holding him out of reach while he flips the envelope open. It's stuffed with damp, folded bills: far more money than Steve should be carrying around with him, that's for sure. Looks enough to cover a month's rent at least. A crack of thunder makes him shiver, fingers digging into Steve's shoulder, and his voice comes out a whisper, "What did you do?"

"Won at cards."

Bucky slams him back against the wall and Steve cries out, whether in surprise or genuine pain he can't tell in the low light. "You're worse at cards than you are at lying," Bucky hisses. "What did you _do_ , Stevie?

"It's none of yer business!" Steve snaps, shoving at him. "Lemme get to bed, Buck."

"You been fucking for dough?" 

Steve's shoulders tense, and Bucky's hand falls away from him without his telling it to. He folds his arms again. "I don't like that word."

"Then don't do it!" Bucky shouts, waving the envelope in front of his face. "It ain't worth it, not even for this!"

"Dammit, keep your voice down."

But Bucky isn't listening, and it's not like anyone could hear them over this damn storm in any case. He throws the envelope down at his feet and gets in close to Steve, pulling apart his folded arms. There's not much light to see, but he hauls Steve over to the candlelight, tilting his head to see. The left side of Steve's chest and his shoulder are already coming up bruised, and he has what looks like bite marks on the back of his neck. 

" _Steve_ ," he breathes out, nausea twisting him up inside. His fingers go soft where they're gripping Steve's arm, and Steve takes the opportunity to pull away from him. 

"Seen all you want?" Steve growls.

"Why, I gotta pay for the privilege now?" he snaps without thinking, and there it is: it's out there now, and he can't wish it back.

Steve goes weak, the fight falling away from him like a dust sheet pulled back. Bucky takes a step back so he can see all of Steve, his eyes catching on the bitten red swell of one nipple, so he doesn't see the punch coming. Certainly it's the shock that sends him reeling back rather than the force of the hit, which given the angle and Steve's skinny arms, wasn't much of a hit at all. His first instinct is to yell and cuss Steve out but he knows, oh he _knows_ he had that coming. Steve is glaring up at him, breathing hard and holding his clenched fist tight at his side. 

Bucky fingers his jaw and lowers his eyes to Steve's pale knees, sticking out of the puddle of his wet pants. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No," Steve says, with a snarl, and moves to kick his pants into a corner. "Let's hear it, let's hear all of it. You think you get to crawl into bed with me and forget it when it's over like some dirty john who can't get down with his wife?"

"Steve-"

"No!" he shouts, shoving Bucky hard with both hands. "No, I'm _not_ just there for you to play with when you can't get it from a dame!"

"I don't think of you like that!" Bucky says desperately, too loud, needing to make Steve understand even if he doesn't understand it himself. 

"Like what? Like a girl? Like a fairy?" His mouth twists into a vicious scowl. "Or like a whore?"

"Stop that," Bucky hisses. "You're not any of those things." His eyes fall over Steve's naked chest again, and he lets out a pained noise, fingers reaching out to touch, although he stops himself before he does at the flinch in Steve's eyes. "Steve, what happened? Who did this?"

"It's none of yer-"

" _Don't_ tell me it's not my business, you little shit," Bucky snaps at him. " _You_ are my business, and I gotta know who did this so I can tear him apart." Steve turns away from him with a groan, and Bucky notices for the first time that he's shivering hard. "Come on," he says more gently. "We gotta get you warmed up."

Steve flat ignores him, so Bucky goes and picks up the blanket he left on the couch, and drapes it carefully over Steve's shoulders. He takes a candle and goes out to fetch some water down the hall, then puts it over the stove to heat. Steve is curled up on the bed when he comes back, wrapped in the blankets with his back turned to Bucky. 

"What're you doing," Steve mumbles. 

"We've got some cocoa powder left over. No milk, but it'll warm you up."

Steve just honors him with a derisive snort and goes right back to ignoring him. Bucky really doesn't wanna do this. He doesn't want to force or wheedle the truth out of Steve because he doesn't want to _hear_ it, he doesn't know if he can, but he also isn't gonna let Steve go through it alone, whatever dumb thing he's got himself into this time. Because there's always something, and Bucky's always gonna have his back. 

He climbs onto the bed and wraps himself around Steve, ignoring his muttered protests. He tries to be gentle, but he still hears Steve hiss when Bucky's fingers brush his left side. "Sorry, sorry," Bucky whispers, soothing. "Easy there, Stevie."

Steve shifts his weight, and whimpers at the pull of it on his injured ribs. "Buck? That water still heating?"

"I'll get it," he murmurs, nuzzling in to press his mouth to Steve's ear. "Can you sit up?"

Steve nods, and Bucky scoots off the bed and goes back through to the kitchen. The little pan of water is just coming to the boil, and Bucky quickly mixes up a mug of cocoa for Steve. He takes it in where Steve is sitting bunched up against the pillows, shivering and looking miserable in the guttering candlelight. Bucky passes him the cocoa and goes to pick up Steve's wet things, wringing them out in the basin and hanging them up to dry. When he's done, he goes and sits at Steve's feet on the mattress, trying not to watch him too closely. 

Eventually, Steve's forced down half of the thin cocoa and stopped shivering so violently. He puts the mug carefully aside, wincing at the strain on his left side, and pushes the damp spikes of hair back off his forehead. 

"Alright," he says in a resigned voice. "Let's hear it."

"Huh?"

"I know you got questions, Buck," Steve mutters, looking down at his knees. "Guess it's only fair."

Bucky swallows and his tongue comes out to wet his mouth. "Uh. Did he-" He falters, and he licks his lips again nervously. "Did he touch you? Like I touch you?"

To his surprise, Steve lets out another unimpressed snort, and humiliation winds around in Bucky's belly. "No, Buck, not even close. You're like a little kid when you touch me, like you never even got your dick wet before."

Bucky feels his face go hot. That Steve of all people is lecturing him about this, that Steve is making fun of the way they'd-

"Okay, Steve," he says quietly, his voice almost getting lost in the roar of the rain. "You've said enough."

"Bucky-"

"Shut it, Steve," he mutters, trying to ignore the way the humiliation burns upwards from his belly, surging into his chest, up his throat, making his voice come out thick. "I got it, okay? I'm not cut out to be a pansy. Am I supposed to be disappointed by that?"

"I'm not a pansy!" Steve snaps.

"Sure seem to know what you're doing."

"You weren't complaining about it the other night," Steve mutters, looking away from him. "I don't got the same options as you."

"But you've got _me_."

Steve laughs a little at that, soft and unhappy. "You're just after a good time." He sighs. "It's okay, Buck, it's natural for a guy. Let's just not talk about it."

That stings Bucky hard, and he sits frozen for a second, not sure what to say back to that. Steve is close enough to reach out and touch, but Bucky can't bring himself to do it if it might end up in Steve pushing him away again. He looks small and sad, curled in on himself, but for once Bucky doesn't know how to make it better. He takes a deep breath and sighs. "I don't care what you say, we're gonna talk about it." Reaching out with tentative fingers, Bucky lays his hand over the top of Steve's left knee. "We don't go to bed sore at each other, you know that."

That gets half a smile out of Steve at least. Sometimes it's the only way they stop scrapping at each other at all, knowing that they've gotta fix things before bedtime. It's usually Bucky who gives way to Steve's temper, because Steve cools off as soon as he realizes he doesn't have anybody left to fight. Leave him in the ring with an enemy and he'll keep going until victory or death. 

"You want me to stop playing with you, I can do that," he says, and if he's not sure that's a promise he can even make, he'll damn well _try_ if that's what Steve wants. "But you gotta tell me about this." He slides his hand down Steve's thigh, searching out his cold fingers. 

Steve takes a deep, labored breath and squeezes Bucky's hand. "That's not a whole lot of options."

"That's what you got."

"You're not gonna back off, huh?" Steve looks up at him, his lashes making dark shadows around his eyes. 

"Still here, ain't I?"

Steve groans and shifts to get more comfortable. "Saw a kid getting thrown around by this older guy, tried to help. Turns out the kid was trying to earn a buck and the john wanted more than he was willing to give." Steve shrugs, and winces. "I stepped in."

"So, you got the crap kicked out of you?"

Steve looks pained, and he won't meet Bucky's eyes. "I traded places with him, Bucky. Promised I'd go home with the guy if he'd leave the kid alone." He lets out a frustrated noise that tears at Bucky's heart. "God, he was only twelve or thirteen, Buck. I couldn't – I couldn't just let it happen."

"You crazy fool," Bucky hisses. He turns away from Steve and fists his hands in his lap, adding a few curses for good measure. "I'd like to get my hands around that bastard's throat."

"Told you," Steve mutters, casual as you like. "I done some stuff before, didn't think it would be that bad, some of it's pretty nice." He gives Bucky a weak smile. "And then there was the money."

Bucky doesn't have a lot to say to that, thinking about Steve's promise the other night to show him more of what he knows about making out with fellas. He thinks it could be nice, if it was with Steve. But then he thinks about someone else doing that with Steve, someone else _hurting_ Steve, and he's mad enough to spit nails. 

"So did he-" Bucky fumbles again, and wonders what he's even asking, but he can't seem to stop, "he make you feel good?"

Steve actually laughs at that; a sharp, bitter laugh that's over in moments. "Look at me, Bucky," he says, pulling aside the blanket to show his purpling ribs. "It look like it felt good?"

Bucky scowls. "No, I – I meant-"

"Oh." Steve's eyes go wide, but he quickly turns it into a sly smile. "He wasn't all that interested in whether I enjoyed myself or not."

That just plain doesn't make sense to Bucky, who counts himself lucky to be one of the few (maybe?) blessed souls in New York to see how good Steve looks when he's enjoying himself like that, flushed and wanton and _sultry_. Bucky could watch it all day. He looks at Steve's downturned gaze; his pale eyelids, lowered to avoid Bucky's eyes, and he wishes he knew how to say all that to him. "That ain't right," is all he says, and Steve answers with his mischievous smile. 

"What, you wanna do something about it?"

Bucky screws up his nerves and nods. "I think I do."

Steve snorts. "You don't know what you want."

"Shut up with that," Bucky says angrily. He pushes Steve's knees aside and climbs up on top of his thighs. Steve looks up at him, surprise on his face, a hint of color on his cheeks though it's hard to tell in the darkness. Bucky leans down and curls his hand around the back of Steve's neck, thinking of the hickeys there under his fingers. "Just – shut up, Steve."

Steve tastes of sweat and hot weather, despite the rain, and a lingering burn of alcohol. Bucky can't help wondering if the guy got him drunk to do it, or if Steve asked for a drink to help him through. His mouth is soft against Bucky's, opening curiously without any hint of shyness. Bucky digs his fingers into Steve's damp hair, slipping them around to cradle the back of his head. Steve makes a soft noise that turns Bucky's stomach inside out. 

The storm seems to have died down, but as Bucky rocks back on his haunches a flash lights up the room and Bucky shudders as the thunder makes their building shake, the sound closer than before. Steve clutches at his shoulders, chuckling softly. "Still scared of thunder, buddy?" 

Bucky appreciates that Steve's trying to help, to lighten the mood, but he doesn't see why it has to be at his expense. "I thought you were dead out there, you idiot! Thought I was gonna find you face down in a puddle somewhere, or pulled outta the river."

Steve moves his hand up to Bucky's neck, the tips of his fingers brushing his nape. "That why you're sore at me?"

"No, dammit," Bucky mutters, fighting down the urge to just lean into Steve's touch. Taking comfort from him right now just doesn't feel right, as much as he might want to. He's gotta get all this straight in his head. "I don't want you doing all that stuff anymore, not without me."

Steve's eyes go hard. "That ain't up to you, Buck." He sighs and strokes his thumb up behind Bucky's ear. "Let's not fight about that anymore, not tonight. I got some things I wanna show you."

Bucky nods, reluctant but willing to give Steve this one, as long as he knows he's gonna be spilling his guts in the morning. He swallows hard and says, "Like what?"

Steve's grin is like a finger of lightning across his face. "You'll see. Just try not to go off in my mouth, okay? Not right away in any case."

The words make Bucky's stomach flip like a pancake. The anticipation of Steve's mouth on him again is almost too much to bear. His voice comes out as an urgent whisper, "Steve-" 

Steve is already slipping down under the blankets, trailing his wet mouth down Bucky's ribs where he's ticklish. He notches his thumbs into the front of Bucky's underwear and pulls it down slowly, getting his teeth acquainted with Bucky's hipbone, making him gasp and wriggle against Steve's hands. He pulls away so that he can strip Bucky's underwear right off, tossing it onto the floor and pushing at his thighs to spread them wide. He clambers over Bucky's left leg and wriggles down into the space between them. Bucky chokes back a surprised noise when Steve slides his hands under his ass and pushes his legs up with his shoulders, leaving Bucky laid wide open. Steve's head is lingering over his groin, and when he speaks again, Bucky can feel hot breath on his dick. 

"Don't be pushy," he says warningly. "Let me drive tonight, okay?" Bucky nods, then screws his eyes shut at another clap of thunder. Steve chuckles and his gaze flicks to the window. "On the plus side, pal, I think you can make as much noise as you like just this once."

He lowers his head and licks Bucky into his mouth with a long, achingly slow movement. His mouth is small; tongue quick and clever. This time he's not drunk, or paranoid about being overheard, and he can let himself focus on the sensation of Steve's mouth properly. It feels a little like the first time he got laid; hot, overwhelming, impossibly wet. His voice shakes loose from his throat as a strangled moan, and he sees Steve's eyes come up to meet his gaze for a second, before he shuts them and loses himself in sucking Bucky's dick. He's better than any girl Bucky's ever been with, not that there have been many, and he can't help but wonder who Steve's been doing this to, who's been doing it to _him_ , for Steve to have such a good notion of how to make it feel good. 

But Steve isn't done surprising him. He moves one of his hands from Bucky's thigh and curls it around the base of his dick, moving it in time with his mouth. Bucky has to tell him to slow down, although it comes out mostly as curse words and pathetic little whining noises. Steve take his hand away and moves it down to cup Bucky's balls instead, which makes him shiver and not quite in a good way. He makes a vague noise of discontent, but it's enough for Steve to get the message.

"Sorry, sorry," he whispers, popping off and running his tongue down the length of Bucky's dick. "You alright?" 

Bucky laughs. "You kiddin me? Damn, Steve, always knew you had one hell of a mouth on you but this-"

Steve just rolls his eyes and swallows him down again, literally swallows around him, which makes Bucky whimper. He moves his hand down further, putting pressure behind Bucky's balls, rubbing back and forth. Bucky moans and thrusts up into Steve's mouth. Steve chokes, and Bucky immediately pulls back, feeling like a heel. "Sorry," he mutters quickly. "Won't do it again. Took me by surprise is all."

Steve looks at him. "No, I -" he looks away again, and Bucky thinks he might be blushing. "I like that."

"Damn," Bucky whispers, and then he's craning forwards, hands reaching for Steve to draw him up for a kiss. "You crazy little jerk," he mutters, licking the taste of himself from Steve's mouth. "Shit, Steve, don't stop, don't you stop."

" _You_ stopped me," Steve laughs into his mouth. He seals Bucky's mouth with swift kiss and shimmies back down on his belly. "Tell me if you think you're gonna blow your top."

Bucky nods. "I will, I will."

The thought of letting go with Steve's mouth still around him almost sets him off, but he takes a deep breath and pushes it down. He's never done that before, gone in someone's mouth, but if Steve would let him - Bucky has to force himself to think of something else before he loses control too soon. He wonders what Steve would do if he didn't warn him in time. Probably spit it right back at him, the little shit. Bucky kinda thinks it might be worth it. 

Steve moves his hand back to what he was doing before, more gently, stroking back and forth, until his fingers reach up and he strokes them over Bucky's hole. Bucky moans, thrusts his hips again hard. Steve pulls off and replaces his mouth with lazy strokes of his left hand, "You want me to keep doing that?"

Bucky bites his lip, because he knows that's what fairies do and he ain't no fairy. 

"It's okay if you don't," Steve mutters, and moves his mouth across Bucky's stomach. "But it don't make you less of a man to enjoy a thing in the sack." 

"Seems like you sure enjoy a thing in the sack," Bucky says, before his brain can catch up to his stupid mouth.

But Steve just grins and winks at him. "I enjoy your thing."

"Idiot," Bucky huffs, cuffing him affectionately. "You know me. Try anything once." Steve's face lights up and he scrambles over to reach under the bed. When he comes up with the jar of Vaseline, Bucky's eyes widen, scandalised. "You told me that was just for the heat rash!"

Steve smirks. "Right, cause I never told you a little white lie before."

"You better not tell me anymore," Bucky mumbles, watching Steve open the tin and slather the jelly on his fingers. "This aint gonna hurt is it?"

Steve kisses him suddenly, soft and sweet. "You relax and you do as I say and it'll feel so good, Buck. I promise."

Bucky catches him by the shoulder as he pulls away. "No more lies?" 

Steve nods. "Not a one." 

Bucky kisses him quick and lets him go. "Okay then." He bites his lip. "Aint it ... kinda dirty?"

Steve laughs. "You don't look dirty to me. He pushes his face into Bucky's neck, kisses his throat. "Besides I know you just had a bath, you almost never smell this sweet."

"Scumbag."

"Your scumbag."

"You don't mean that," Bucky teases, pushing him away. He doesn't mean to hold onto that, but he can't help wanting this all to himself, and it feels wrong that Steve went somewhere else first. 

Steve catches his mood, and he lays his hand on Bucky's stomach and faces him down with his steady warm gaze. "Buck," he says in a low voice. "You're my best friend, no matter what."

Bucky's gone a little soft with the talking and the anticipation, but he's kinda glad as it's pushed him back from the edge. He shuts his eyes as Steve settles back between his legs, tipping them up again with his narrow shoulders. Bucky feels awkward and exposed, more so when Steve pulls Bucky's dick into his mouth again and reaches back with his sticky fingers. The Vaseline feels unpleasant at first, Steve's questing fingers foreign and uncomfortable.

"Don't fight me, Bucky," Steve says gently, stroking over his hole with one soft fingertip. "Not gonna hurt you, just relax."

Bucky takes a deep breath to steady himself, and Steve curls his spare fingers around Bucky's dick, giving him an encouraging lick. It shudders a moan through him; a loose, breathless sound. 

Steve hums gentle in his throat, just an offbeat noise, then he follows it up, and Bucky realises with a start of laughter that Steve is humming him an old Ruth Etting tune to relax him. "You old romantic," he mutters fondly, pushing his fingers into Steve's hair. Steve takes it as encouragement to suck harder on Bucky's swelling dick, and at the same time he pushes his first finger inside, up to his second knuckle. Bucky whimpers and shifts uncomfortably, but Steve keeps on humming to him, moving his finger slow and easy, in and out just an inch or two. 

"That okay?"

Bucky nods, and feels Steve push in further, the heel of his hand butting up against Bucky's thigh. "Feels strange," he mutters. "Not bad though."

Steve slowly works him loose, lavishing attention with his mouth at the same time, and Bucky's fingers seize in his hair when Steve pushes in with two. His stomach seizes, breath coming out in rags. He wonders distantly if this is what it feels like for a girl, this odd sensation of invasion, of claiming, being claimed. Bucky doesn't even know what he's thinking anymore. But he knows suddenly that he wants to be kissing Steve even more than he wants that slick mouth on his dick. 

"Stevie," he mutters brokenly. 

Steve looks up at once, concern in his eyes. "You okay?"

"Uh huh." it's a strange time to start, with Steve buried knuckle deep in his ass, mouth still shiny wet from sucking on his dick, but Bucky blushes. "Come up here," he says, forcing past the embarrassment. "I can't pet you from here."

Looking delighted, Steve shuffles up the bed and crashes into Bucky's arms, even though it makes him pull a face at the pressure on his bruises. "Want me to keep going?" he asks as he hauls Bucky's thigh up over his waist. Bucky gasps and rocks into his belly, feeling Steve's dick press into his thigh. His fingers creep up again, rubbing at his hole. 

"Yes," Bucky hisses, "yes Steve please oh god please."

Steve slips his two fingers in again without a care, and Bucky pushes back to meet them. "That's good, Buck," Steve murmurs encouragingly. He kisses along Bucky's jaw, and makes a soft, happy sound when Bucky turns his head to catch him for a proper kiss. "You're doing real good."

That gets a laugh out of him. "It's a little strange you talking to me like a kid right now."

Steve snorts and his fingers twist, startling a gasp out of Bucky. "You rather I talk to you like a girl?"

Bucky grins. "And how does Steve Rogers sweet talk his girls?"

Steve ducks his head shyly. "He ain't had much chance for that, but he sure knows how to sweet talk a boy."

It's there again: the bittersweet bite of envy and arousal at the thought of Steve sharing this with some other guy. Bucky pushes his head closer to Steve's, hitches his knee a little higher. "Let's hear it then."

Steve licks his lips, and with that right in front of him, Bucky can't do anything except capture that sweet mouth between his teeth. It gets a little moan out of Steve before he pulls away. "You ain't got a scrap of patience," he says fondly. He grabs Bucky's left hand and pushes it down between their hot bellies. "We're gonna teach you to wait a little for what you want." he puts Bucky's hand on his underwear then pulls it open by the elastic. "You wanna touch me, big guy?" he goes on, while Bucky's breath catches. "I like those big hands of yours, the way you touch me with them. You know how I like it."

"Yeah," Bucky mutters back, pulling Steve's shorts down enough to get both hands wrapped around him. "I know what you like, sugar."

Steve giggles into his shoulder. "Sugar?"

"Shut it."

"Thought you wanted me to talk," Steve mutters in a filthy voice. "Tell you all the things I'm gonna do to you." he curls his fingers inside Bucky and groans. "God, you're so hot and wet, I could screw you right now, and you'd beg me for it."

"Jesus Christ," Bucky mutters in a small, shocked voice. "You been spending too much time around me, talking like that."

"Why?" Steve asks with a wicked look. "You been telling me you wanna screw me? Think I'd have taken notice of that." Bucky groans and his eyes screw shut as Steve pulls his fingers loose, then works them back in slowly. It takes Bucky a moment to realise he's using three. "If I'd known you wanted to stick it in me, Bucky, I'd have said yes." Steve gets in close, his voice a hoarse whisper in Bucky's ears, a filthy rumble in his chest. "I'd have bent over for you without a thought, you know that? I can't stand being around you sometimes, Buck, when I want you so bad I feel like I'm burning up or losing my mind." He kisses the moan right out of Bucky's mouth, puts his free hand on Bucky's chest and digs in his nails. "But I'm not gonna let you do it now, you should've asked nicely. Now I'm gonna show you what it's like first, gonna get you on all fours like a dirty street mutt and stick it in you until you're begging me to let you come."

"Jesus Christ, Steve, _fuck_. What the hell's gotten into you?"

"That sweet enough for you?"

"You filthy little bastard,"

"Hold still, I got an idea,"

"Huh?"

"I wanna suck you until you go off in my mouth"

Bucky stutters. "I - I thought you didn't want that."

"I just didn't want you shooting off too soon, stupid."

Bucky would be lying if he said he didn't want it, but he still worries that Steve is gonna regret this. "You sure?"

"Mm, I bet you taste real sweet."

"Oh god, Steve.

"Like milkshake-" 

"Quit it!"

"Or peaches and cream-"

Bucky shuts Steve up with his mouth, pushing his tongue into Steve's mouth so he doesn't get a chance to answer back. "You dirty little whore," he gasps, pulling Steve against him, other hand still working his dick, "you filthy fucking - augh-"

"Lemme go, Buck," he says through his laughter, "I wanna get that thing in my mouth before it explodes."

Steve turns over, nudging Bucky to shuffle down the bed. They used to sleep top to tail like this, when they were kids. Another memory sullied by Steve's dirty mind. He rolls Bucky on his side and gets his mouth around Bucky's dick and his fingers up his ass again and he doesn't event need Bucky to touch him before he starts moaning loudly. But Bucky does touch him too, because he wants to and because Steve's dick is right there in front of him, pink and straining out of his underwear. It's the closest Bucky's seen it, and his fingers shake as he reaches to touch it, which might be partly because Steve is slowly taking him apart but it's not the only reason. The one blessing is Steve can't talk anymore now his mouth is occupied, because Bucky doesn't think he could listen to anymore without losing his mind. He puts his hands on Steve's dick, one around the base, one cradling the head. Steve lets out a long, high pitched whine and sucks Bucky down harder. It sets a growl rumbling in Bucky's chest, and it builds into a long moan as Steve keeps working at him, slow and unforgiving. 

He can feel that he's about to come, and he mutters his warning at Steve, who completely disregards him and buries his nose in Bucky's pubic hair. Bucky can feel his harsh irregular breaths and he hopes to god Steve isn't giving himself an asthma attack for this. Then Bucky loses all sensation except the pleasure pain shooting through him, his being reduced to Steve's mouth and fingers, Steve's dick in his hands. He tries to stifle the sound he makes; a hopeless, broken sound where he whimpers and begs for more, for Steve, crying Steve's name over and over. He does the only thing that makes sense and muffles his own voice by opening his fingers and pushing Steve's dick into his mouth. He surprised to find it doesn't taste of much at all; warm skin and faintly salty like Steve's sweat or his tears. Steve moans into him, fingers scrabbling at Bucky's hip. His hips stammer, and his other hand digs unto Bucky's ass with brutal determination. 

"Easy," Bucky hisses, popping Steve out of his mouth. "Have a care, Steve."

Steve withdraws his touch, to a whimper from Bucky, and he shuffles around with a wide eyed look. "Bucky" he moans, eyes dark with lust, "I - I don't wanna push you, but I need – I really wanna-" 

"Do it," Bucky says before he can change his mind. He rolls onto his belly and pushes his ass up in the air. "Do it quick though, because I feel like an idiot."

Steve rubs his palm over the small of Bucky's back. "You look incredible."

"I'll bet," Bucky says with a snort. "Come on," he says more gently. "This way you can lean your weight on me. Be easier for you."

Biting his lip, Steve grabs the tin of Vaseline again and smothers his dick in it. Bucky watches from the corner of his eye. "Sure you're ready?"

"Just do it, Steve."

Steve crouches behind him and angles himself in the right place. Okay, Steve's not huge, but there's still a world of difference between this and his fingers when he starts to push inside. Bucky gasps and bites down on the pillow at the strange, full sensation. He expected it to make him feel like he needs to take a dump, but the pressure is all in the wrong place for that. Steve's fingers grab at his hips, and Bucky spreads his knees so he can lower his hips a little. 

"Lie on top of me," he says over his shoulder. He throws Steve a filthy smirk. "I'm your dirty street mutt, remember?"

Steve groans and does as Bucky requested, sliding his arms around Bucky's waist as he covers his back with his own body. It gives Steve free rein to go as fast, as hard as he wants, and Bucky suppresses a shiver at the idea of making himself so helpless, giving himself over to Steve like this. For over a minute Steve doesn't move, just lies against Bucky and breathes in time with him, tracing over Bucky's ribs with his fingertips. 

"Bucky?" Steve murmurs, as he starts to move. 

"Uh - uh huh?" Bucky grits out

"I never- shit, ah - never did this before, not to a - another guy like this."

Bucky groans and tips his hips up to Steve, to pull him in deeper. "Savin' yourself for marriage?" Steve laughs and cusses him out. His cheek is pressed to Bucky's back, just below his left scapula, right over his heart. "Just for me then."

"Mm if I weren't screwing your tight little hole right now, I'd get you back for that."

"Fuck you," Bucky mumbles, laughing. 

Steve, thankfully, leaves that one alone. He starts juddering his hips against Bucky's backside, moving in and out in quick, determined movements. Bucky, to his surprise, finds that it feels _amazing_. Steve keeps his movements tight and controlled, at least at first, giving him plenty of time to get used to the sensation. 

"You okay there, Buck?" Steve whispers against the back of his neck. 

Bucky nods quickly, and can't help a smile when Steve clutches him tighter. "Feels good, Stevie," he mutters, pushing his hips back into Steve's and letting out a long whine of pleasure. "Feels real good."

"Never-" Steve laughs breathlessly, "never thought we'd be doin' this."

"Knew you were holding out on me," Bucky says, shoving his hips back again. "C'mon, Steve, you can give me more than that."

To his severe disappointment, Steve pulls back out of him to a wordless cry of protest from Bucky. Just as he turns his head to ask what the problem is, Steve's palm comes down hard on the side of his thigh. Bucky cries out loudly, and quickly muffles his voice with his fist. "What the hell," he hisses, feeling himself blush. He turns to look at Steve over his shoulder, and catches the corner of his mischievous smile in return. 

"Told you to let me drive," Steve says, spreading his palms over Bucky's back and sliding them up to his shoulders. His hands are warming up at last, and Bucky moans and rolls his spine under Steve's touch, stretching out like a cat. His dick is warming up again too, now that he's over the first shock of Steve sliding inside him, and apparently getting slapped did nothing to discourage it. 

"Okay, okay," he groans, pushing his face back into the pillows. "Just don't hit me anymore, you little shit."

Steve curls around him again and he presses his hot mouth against Bucky's back, scraping him with his teeth. One hand comes down to his ass again, spreading him open, then Steve's thumb presses at his hole, stroking over it. Bucky shudders and stifles a moan. "I think you'd let me put just about anything up here," Steve says, filthy and teasing. "You just can't resist."

Bucky shakes his head no, because he just wants _Steve_ and that's bad enough, wanting him so much it makes him shake and stammer, awed by how easily Steve keeps his cool, how he still has the strength of will to talk filthy to Bucky like that. 

"You want it back inside you?" he teases, dragging his nails over Bucky's back. "You gonna behave for me? Let me screw you real nice and slow?" 

Christ, Bucky can't _think_ with those things coming out of Steve's mouth. Steve who barely ever swears unless it's cuss out Bucky, who greets every little old lady with a polite 'morning ma'am, who before his voice dropped sang the sweetest hallelujah you ever heard, full pink lips shaping the Lord's words. 

"I'm not gonna fill you up with my dick unless you ask me for it, Buck."

"Fuck," Bucky moans, panting heavily. He's so hard now, almost painfully so after one go round, and if Steve touched him now he'd probably go off like a firework. "Do it, Steve, fuck me as hard as you want, _please_."

Still, Steve takes his time, but he lets out a breathless moan as he pushes back inside Bucky, still holding his ass open with one hand. He folds himself forward over Bucky's back again, snuggling in close to him. It reminds Bucky of the way they curl up close when it's cold, or when Steve is sick, and he knows instantly that he'll be thinking about this every time they share a bed again for the rest of his life. 

"You warm enough?" Bucky murmurs over his shoulder. Steve starts laughing, the force of it shaking into Bucky's chest. "What?"

"I can't believe you, Bucky," Steve says softly, still laughing but without a trace of malice. "You're just – you're fantastic."

Bucky rolls his eyes and drops his forehead into the pillow to hide his smile. "You're a sap." Of course Steve would suddenly decide to be nice to him the second he gets his end in. He wonders how long it'll last, before Steve is back to his usual stubborn, mule-headed self. 

For now, he just sighs happily and slides his hands over Bucky's stomach, one creeping around to curl over his sensitive dick where it presses between his thighs and his belly. "Think you can go again?" Steve whispers in his ear. "Think I can ride it out of you?" Bucky moans loudly, and Steve laughs and pinches his nipple with his other hand. "Not too loud," he mutters, "storm's passing."

Bucky bites his lip and nods, and Steve starts fucking into him harder, picking up his rhythm. It jolts something inside him, sparking a new burst of desire that makes Bucky pant and clutch at the sheets for purchase. He puts his hand down to touch himself, and moans when he finds Steve's fingers. Steve lets go so he can grab hold of Bucky's hips to steady them both, and Bucky starts jerking himself off hard in time with Steve's thrusts. 

"I'll pull out," Steve says breathlessly, his voice shattering against Bucky's left shoulder, "before I – I won't go inside you."

"O – okay," Bucky gasps, lost in the drag of Steve's skin sticking to his own; the flush of sensation inside him each time Steve pushes in. He can feel Steve's breathing go erratic, a sound he's familiar with from the last few nights pressed tight together on the bed, and from so many other occasions listening to Steve touch himself silently when Bucky was supposed to be already sleeping. Part of him wants to drag it out, wants to keep this going as long as they can but he can feel Steve starting to shake, can feel the wild beat of his heart, and he _needs_ to feel Steve fall apart for him. 

"Steve," he moans, jacking himself faster. "Stevie – I can't hold on, please-"

The sound Steve makes seems to come up from the bottom of his very soul; a long, deep groan that vibrates through Bucky's chest and drowns out the scattered thoughts in his head. Steve's thrusts falter, and then he pulls out quickly and Bucky whimpers when he feels Steve shoot off over his back, choking out the sweetest noises Bucky's ever heard. It pushes him through, and Bucky gasps as orgasm rips through him again, spilling feebly over his knuckles. 

Bucky takes a couple of deep breaths as he comes down from the clouds, and he feels Steve's hand rub over the small of his back, pawing at the sticky mess he left there. Bucky can't help but moan at that, and Steve grabs at his hip to roll him onto his back. He goes, mindless of the mess they're making of the bed, and Steve is on him at once, kissing him hard to stifle the sounds they're both still making. Bucky shuts his eyes and pulls Steve against him, but Steve whimpers and struggles, twisting away from his grasp. Too late, Bucky remembers the bruises and he brings his hands up to hold Steve's face.

"Sorry, sorry," he murmurs, kissing Steve's mouth softly. "Should put something on that."

Steve shakes his head, then tucks it into Bucky's shoulder. "I'll be alright."

Bucky frowns and wants to tell him _no, you're never alright_ , but he keeps it to himself. For now. Steve's sweet and soft against him like a sleepy kitten, and Bucky isn't gonna trade something this rare just for the sake of being right. 

"Sure know what you're doing, huh?"

Steve bats at him sleepily. "Don't start."

Bucky turns his head and kisses Steve's temple, his dark eyebrow, his cheekbone. "Didn't mean nothin' by it, Stevie. You showed me a damn good time."

With a contented noise, Steve snuggles in closer, and Bucky reaches down to pull the blankets over them. Steve is already cooling off quick now they're done, and he pushes his freezing toes under Bucky's calf without being invited. 

"We ain't gonna cuddle like this all the time though," Steve mutters, and if there's a warning in his voice, it's lost in the sleepy, fucked out drawl. "Just 'cause it's cold."

Bucky strokes Steve's hair back off his temple and smiles. "Sure, pal. Just 'cause it's cold."

Steve lets out a soft exhale against his jaw, and Bucky realizes he's already nodded off. He wants to sleep himself but he's still anxious about Steve, about the faceless asshole that did who-knows-what to his best friend. He holds Steve tight and promises him he'll get the whole story out of him in the morning, and then he's gonna make the son of a bitch wish he'd never been born. 

To his surprise, Steve shifts in his arms and nips Bucky's neck with his sharp little teeth. "Stop fussing, Buck. Go to sleep."

"Yeah," Bucky mutters, torn between love and frustration. "Okay. Night, Stevie."

"Night."

**Author's Note:**

> :D yum, hope you enjoyed! Feel free to poke me on [tumblr](notallbees.tumblr.com) at your leisure.
> 
> If this is your cup of tea, [reblog it here.](http://notallbees.tumblr.com/post/101951454545/any-port-in-a-storm-8991-words-by-notallbees#notes)


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